"It is such a responsibility," she sighed; but Doreen would not listen to this.
"It is such an enjoyment," she retorted. "I do so love spending money, and so do you, Althea, in spite of your grumbling. And as to Aunt Sara's will, we need not make ourselves miserable about that, for she will probably live until she is ninety." And this view of the case cheered Althea greatly. Althea's temperament was by no means pessimistic, but like all deep thinkers she had to pay the penalty of her own acute perceptions. The unsolved problems of life saddened her, and at times disturbed her comfort. She envied Doreen her capacity for putting troublesome questions out of her mind. "I wish I had your mind, Dorrie," she said once. "It is such a comfortable, nicely padded mind. When disagreeable things happen, you just let down your curtains and keep yourself snug."
"Upon my word, Althea," returned Doreen, good-humouredly, "I am glad no one but myself heard that speech. You make me out a nice selfish sort of person."
"No, no, you are not selfish at all, you are far more ready to help people than I am. You are a good woman, Doreen, and you know I did not mean that."
"Then what did your riddle mean?"
"Well, just what I said. That you never worry and fret yourself over troublesome questions—social questions, I mean, difficult problems that meet one in this world at every corner; I often make myself quite unhappy over them, and go to bed with a heartache, but I do not believe that you ever lose an hour's sleep over them."
"I daresay not. In that sense I suppose I have a nicely padded mind; but, Althea, it is not that I do not realise the difficulty. But, my dear child, what is the good of sitting down before a mountain and waiting for it to open. Earthquakes of that sort won't happen. I put it by until I am grown up;" and as Althea stared at her she nodded her head. "Quite grown up, I mean; we are only children here, and we are not likely to get all our lessons perfect." And then, in a low voice, she said, a little solemnly, "'What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter;'" and as Doreen said this her plain, homely features were transfigured and Althea looked at her with reverence; for in her simple faith Doreen had passed her and taken the higher place.
"Well, Doreen, what has brought you over this evening?" asked Althea, as she handed her sister a cup of tea. "I was thinking of driving over to-morrow to see you and Aunt Sara."
"Well, I wanted to see you about two or three things, Miss Ward amongst them. I have brought her over, and she is at present partaking of tea and cake in my room."
"Oh—do you think she will do?" asked Althea, quickly.